Red John, Savior
by LouiseKurylo
Summary: After Kristina Frye is kidnapped by Red John, Jane seeks the film students who may murdered a fellow student in Red John style. Red John kills the students, rescuing Jane from being the star victim in their slasher flick. Lisbon and her team have to pick up the pieces afterward.


**Who**: Lisbon's CBI team

**What:** Period after Red John saves Jane from starring as the victim in the film students' slasher flick

**When:** Season 2 finale, after Kristina Frye is abducted and Jane bound and threatened by copycat killers

**Where:** Vacant bank in Salinger Mill

**Why:** Red John kills film students and "rescues" Jane, but Lisbon and her team still have to pick up the pieces

* * *

**After Kristina Frye is kidnapped by Red John, Jane seeks the film students who may murdered a fellow student in Red John style. Red John kills the students, rescuing Jane from being the star victim in their slasher flick. Lisbon and her team have to pick up the pieces afterward.**

* * *

Lisbon and Van Pelt pulled into the Kenny's Chili parking lot in Salinger Mill, entered the restaurant and scanned the crowd. After finding the Hotel del Corona-the location shown in Blankfein's photo-Jane had left a message on Lisbon's phone saying he'd wait for her at Kenny's. The hotel promised to be the key to solving the Red John copycat murder of Marley Sparrow.

"Damn, no Jane," muttered Lisbon under her breath. She tried calling his cell phone again without luck.

"I don't see him," said Van Pelt. "I'll check the men's room." Returning after a moment, she said, "Not there."

~.~.~.~

Van Pelt drove the two blocks and parked near the vacant Hotel del Corona while Lisbon phoned to see how close Cho and Rigsby were. The women donned bullet-proof vests and readied assault weapons. While they waited, Lisbon phoned the local police to notify them they would be taking the building. The other team pulled up a few minutes later and also put on vests and got their weapons.

Lisbon pushed the front door open a quarter of an inch, confirming that it was unlocked. She had Rigsby and Van Pelt check for other exits. They put a length of scrap 2x4 through the handles of the double doors around back, the only other exit. A portable generator–out of gas and silent-was also in the back with extension cords snaking into the building. The four gathered by the second CBI SUV, a hundred feet from the hotel entrance.

Lisbon laid out the plan. "Newspapers cover the windows. We have no idea what's inside. They were using a generator, so assume no electricity or lights. Cho and Van Pelt, take assault rifles. Rigsby and I will use handguns. Cho, you toss in flashbangs, then all four of us enter on my count of three. Fan out–Cho, left, Rigsby center-left, me center-right and Van Pelt right. Cho, you and I will check the first floor. Rigsby and Van Pelt, take the staircase and check the second floor. Protect yourselves, but remember Jane and Blankfein's mother may be in there. Could be nothing. But Marley Sparrow was killed in cold blood so assume they're armed and dangerous." They took their positions outside the entrance.

Cho tossed in the grenades. After the blinding flashes and noise ended, they entered according to plan. One light shown feebly toward the back, dimming as its battery power faded. Eerie silence.

Cho swept the room with his flashlight, the light reflecting off decades of dust stirred up by the grenades. "Clear of hostiles. One back here, unconscious. Blankfein. Leg wound, but he'll live. No weapon on him."

"Two dead near the front. The students, Ruth and Dylan. Gunshot wounds and throats slit," Lisbon called from the room's center.

Weapons ready, Rigsby and Van Pelt cautiously climbed the stairs without encountering anyone. They systematically started checking the upstairs rooms. Lisbon and Cho checked the three rooms opening off the main lobby. "All clear."

Returning to the lobby, Lisbon's flashlight illuminated a large wooden chair tipped over on its side, facing away from the entrance. Obscured by a snowstorm of dust motes, the details were hard to see. It took her several seconds to make out an unconscious man bound to it with plastic wrap. "Jane!" A few strides took her to the chair. She felt for and found a pulse, the cold knot in her middle thawing when her hand _didn't_ come away wet with blood. She tugged at the wrap without effect.

"Here, let me. I've got a knife." Cho flipped open his knife. Surprised, Lisbon realized it was a switchblade–six inches, lethal, and illegal. Razor sharp, he made quick work of the bindings, freeing Jane. In the background they heard Rigsby and Van Pelt call "all clear" upstairs and start back down.

They eased Jane to the floor and laid him out straight. Cho squatted by his side, back to the light. Lisbon trained her flashlight on Jane. Cho ran his hands over Jane's torso and limbs-the quick field exam for injuries he'd learned in the Rangers Special Forces.

"No wounds, no obvious fractures. Bump on his head, but doesn't seem like much. I don't know why he's unconscious."

Lisbon, kneeling by Jane's head, "Drugged?"

"Not a sedative or depressant. Pulse and breathing are _too_ rapid if anything."

A metal prop on the table overbalanced and clattered to the floor, shattering the silence.

Jane came to with a jolt. He flung his arm out, throwing Lisbon back five feet, and fought to get up. Cho grabbed and struggled to hold him, despite a 20-pound advantage in muscle. Cho was silhouetted against the dim light, Lisbon, hidden in darkness.

"Jane! Jane, it's us. Stop!" Cho managed while still fighting to hold him.

Lisbon scrambled to her knees, and aimed her light on Cho's face. After a moment, Jane went limp, Cho's identity finally penetrating his fear. Lisbon turned the light on Jane. His face was white, his expression a mix of terror and horror. He panted heavily from exertion and fear.

"Cho, get him outside _now_. Wait by the SUV. Make sure he doesn't go anywhere and no one gets to him." Cho hauled Jane to his feet and walked him toward the door with a tight grip on his arm. Jane stumbled on the steps up to the foyer, slipping on the pooled blood. Jane shrank from the corpse–_no, from the blood-_until, finally, they were outside.

"Rigsby, see if you can staunch Blankfein's bleeding. Assume he's dangerous. I'll call the ambulance, local police, and forensics. Van Pelt, see if you find any clues on where Blankfein's mother is being held. I'll be outside with Cho and Jane."

Van Pelt used her flashlight to look for papers or maps. There was nothing on Blankfein. She then knelt by the corpses, donned latex gloves, and gingerly checked pockets for papers and car keys, hoping for useful information.

~.~.~.~

Lisbon walked to the SUV where Cho and Jane waited. Cho had popped the SUV's rear hatch. Cho scanned the street, alert for anything amiss. Jane sat on the rear bumper. Arms at his sides, Jane gripped the hatch frame with both hands, knuckles white.

Lisbon squatted to face Jane squarely. "Jane. Are you injured?" she asked quietly, as low-key and calm as possible.

He blinked and focused on her face, aware of her for the first time. "Uh, no, I'm okay."

"How about your head? Do you need an ambulance?"

"No," he replied and then repeated with force and too loud, "No!"

"Okay, easy. Just a sec." Lisbon got her cup of now-tepid Coke from the SUV and handed it to Jane. "Deep breaths. Drink this." After a moment, Jane took a sip and relaxed a little.

"Can you tell us what happened?"

Jane closed his eyes and seemed to set aside whatever grisly memory loop was playing in his head. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and answered close to his normal manner. "I left you the message about this place. I was going to wait at Kenny's but I thought–" He shook his head and shrugged, "I don't know what I thought. I went in and was hit on the head from behind. I woke up bound to a chair." He paused, obviously replaying the events in his head.

"Then?" Lisbon prompted.

"Blankfein was dressed as Grady Shipp. He was reciting a script, the room decked out like a movie set for a slasher flick. The knife was real. I was going to be the sacrifice. I did a song and dance to buy time. Figured out Ruth and Dylan were filming it as a movie. They also killed Sparrow. I told Blankfein he didn't have to go through with it because they'd kill him and his mother anyway."

"Jane, why, what was the motive?"

"Mad as hatters. On and on about how they were artists and this was 'good stuff.' 'Real blood, real guts.' Mine. Blankfein was going to go through with it." Jane's face tightened in remembered fear. He shuddered from head to toe.

"Breathe. Take another drink." Jane did as she said and regained control.

"Next, I heard shots. Ruth and Dylan. I tipped over the chair to get out of the line of fire. Then Blankfein was wounded in the leg, dropped the knife. Ruth didn't die right away. I could hear her writhing and moaning." He looked sick. "Then gurgling and nothing. It–it–" Jane stiffened, panic threatening to overwhelm him.

"Easy. It's all over."

Jane closed his eyes, and reached deep to control himself. "It was Red John," he finally was able to say.

"Copycat? But Blankfein was wounded and the other two dead."

Jane shook his head. "The real Red John. He said that he can't tolerate cheap imitations of his work. He–" Jane pressed his lips together, trying not to vomit. "He asked if I knew who he was then walked over, pulled the chair upright, and peered into my face. Ugly. Halloween mask."

Lisbon frowned, appalled. "He–Red John saved your life from the students?"

Jane nodded. "I thought he would kill me next. He left. Then he came back and patted me on the shoulder." Jane grimaced in revulsion.

"Did he say anything else?"

After a moment, "No. I don't know anything more. I came to and saw a man's silhouette against the light. I didn't realize it was Cho till I saw his face."

"Jane, a couple more questions. Blankfein was _not_ part of this? He's innocent?"

"Yeah."

"Was there anything identifiable about Red John?"

"Male, I think. Neither heavy nor thin. Odd voice. It was dark and he wore a mask and hood. Couldn't tell much."

"Okay. Try to relax."

~.~.~.~

Lisbon went to check on Rigsby and Van Pelt. The ambulance had arrived and EMT's were getting Blankfein ready for transport to the hospital. "I need you two to wrap this up. Work with the local PD, make sure the crime scene is secured. Jane told me Blankfein is innocent, forced to participate by threatening his mother. Sparrow's murder and the slasher movie were all Dylan and Ruth. Red John–the real Red John–shot Blankfein to keep him from stabbing Jane as part of their sick movie. He killed Dylan and Ruth for copycatting him."

Van Pelt. "What?

"Red John _saved_ Jane's life?!" exclaimed Rigsby.

"Yeah. Make sure forensics combs the building and immediate area for _anything_ that might be related to Red John. Van Pelt, give Cho anything you found that might help locate Blankfein's mother and ask the local PD to help with the search. Oh, if Blankfein can talk, ask if he has any idea of where they were holding his mother. I'm driving Jane back to Sacramento." Lisbon walked back to Jane and Cho.

~.~.~.~

"Cho, you take lead in finding Blankfein's mother. Now I need to talk with Jane privately, please

Cho joined Rigsby and Van Pelt out of earshot.

"How's Jane?" asked Van Pelt.

"Not injured, but he's having a tough time dealing with Red John showing up," answered Cho.

"Red John saved Jane's life!" repeated Rigsby. "I can't get my head around that. How's Jane dealing with it?"

"PTSD poster boy. I've seen guys in the Rangers thrown back to the event as though it just happened. This looks exactly like that."

"I re-read his file a while ago. Jane discovered the bodies of his wife and daughter. He didn't call the Malibu PD for hours and was covered in their blood when they got there. If that isn't a set-up for PTSD I don't know what is," Rigsby agreed.

"Yeah, Jane freaked at all the blood from Dylan and Ruth."

"So what next?" asked Van Pelt. "How can he be helped?"

Cho. "I think Lisbon's going to try to back him away from all this. He avoids doctors for physical stuff and is even worse about psychiatrists and psychologists."

"You think he needs one?" asked Van Pelt, worried.

"The question is who can actually help. He doesn't let many people get close. And there's no Sophie Miller this time."

"Sophie Miller, the researcher whose ex was killed? What's she have to do with Jane?" asked Van Pelt.

"I checked her out during the case. She was a psychiatrist in private practice back when Jane's family was killed," answered Cho.

"Jane had some kind of relationship with her," Rigsby seconded. "Lisbon took the murder case of Miller's ex right after Jane got her call. I'm betting she wasn't just his neighbor."

Van Pelt. "Do you think it was romantic, an affair?"

"Not unless it was from way back. Jane was married for ten years before his family was killed. I'd be astounded if he slept around on his wife. Doesn't fit," Rigsby answered.

Cho added, "Remember Jane was off the grid for six months after the murders? Maybe that was the Sophie Miller connection. He may have had more trouble than we thought. Hope Lisbon can fix this."

~.~.~.~

Lisbon sat down on the SUV next to Jane. "Jane, what do you want to happen next?"

"I don't understand."

"You don't want any kind of medical help. You just want to go home and try to get over this?"

He nodded mutely.

"I'll drive us back to Sacramento, but I need to know you can keep it together. You're stronger and 50 pounds heavier than I am. I could subdue you, but not without hurting you. I'm not going to put us in that situation."

Jane rubbed his face with both hands and drank more Coke. He looked fully present for the first time since leaving the building. "Lisbon, I'm not going to freak out on you." A ghost of a wry smile flitted across his face. "I'd rather not require subduing, by you or anyone else, thank you. It hasn't been the easiest day, but I'm okay."

"Come on. Get in the passenger seat. We'll leave shortly." Lisbon walked with him to the front seat. Jane got in, put the empty styrofoam cup in the trash bag and buckled the seat belt. Lisbon started to close the car door then hesitated. She flipped the child-proof locking mechanism on the side of the door before closing it. The passenger door now could be unlocked only by the driver. She did a final check with her three agents then left with Jane.

Lisbon drove slowly through the Salinger Mill streets. Stopped at a light, she glanced at Jane who looked bone tired and utterly drained. _Calmer, but he still looks like crap. This is the worst I've seen him since he came to CBI._ It suddenly occurred to her she might be overlooking the basics.

"Jane, did you eat anything today? When did you last eat?"

He looked at her. She had to repeat the question before it registered. "Uh, I don't know. Maybe yesterday. Lunch."

"You're running on empty. Unless it would make you sick, let's get something. Your choice."

They stopped at McDonald's. He got a burger and fries, ate the burger and left most of the fries. He looked marginally better afterward.

An hour into the drive, Jane had visibly relaxed, shoulders no longer high and tense, breathing slower and deeper. Lisbon thought-hoped–he would drift off to sleep. Jane seldom slept well in the first place, and had been dealing with Red John's focus on–and then kidnapping of-Kristina Frye. _As if that isn't enough, he was threatened with being stabbed to death, witnessed two murders close up, and feared death by Red John, killer of his family. God, his life sucks. _Jane fell asleep, then jerked awake, visibly agitated. It happened twice more over the next hour. _He's dead tired but can't sleep. Gotta get around that somehow. Are common sense and friendship going to be enough to get him through this? If he's forced into getting psychiatric care, it won't be pretty. He might not be coming back to CBI any time soon._

Jane asked Lisbon to stop at the next exit offering fast food. After using the restrooms, they both bought drinks. She got black coffee and expected him to get tea. She was surprised when he bought a Coke Big Gulp. _What gives? Thirty-two ounces of caffeine and sugar. That'll keep him wired._ His thinking became clear during the rest of the drive. The Coke kept him awake: No more nightmares. _Of course, it's that much longer since he's had any sleep. That works against getting through this._

_~.~.~.~_

Lisbon pulled up to his extended stay hotel a while later. She had to shake Jane's shoulder before he realized they had arrived. He slowly climbed the stairs to the second level where his room was. She locked the SUV and went up with him, closing and locking the room's door behind her.

Jane sat down on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, elbows on his knees. Utterly atypical for him, Lisbon could tell there was no thinking going on at any level.

"Jane, take your jacket and shoes off. Make a pit stop and get ready for bed. You need to sleep." At her urging he followed her directions, but took no initiative to do anything else. He glanced dully at her and sat back down on the bed again. Lisbon went into the bathroom. As she hoped, she found a bottle of prescription sleeping pills. She read the label, determined the maximum dose, and shook out two pills. She moved to return the bottle to the medicine cabinet, then thought better of it and pocketed the bottle instead. _Over-reaction? If I have to worry about Jane's access to sleeping pills, he needs professional help. Round and round, one unworkable approach to another. It's bad news if he can't sleep. How will I know if he can cope until he's rested?_

Acutely aware of Jane's sleight-of-hand skills, Lisbon gave him the pills and a glass of water, watching him closely to be sure he took them. He did as she asked. "Come on, Jane. Lie down and get some sleep."

Fifteen minutes later he was still awake. Lisbon frowned. _What's going on? He's dead tired, took the pills and should be dead to the world by now. Dead. My God, I'm an idiot!_

Slowly. "Jane, listen to me. Let me help you. I will stand watch here till you wake up tomorrow. No one is going to come through that door, I promise. The danger is past, you're safe. _Please,_ let yourself sleep."

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, looked up at her and managed a faint, "Thanks." He was asleep in minutes.

Lisbon pulled the bedspread over him. She looked down with worry and care, rubbing her gritty eyes with her hands. On impulse, she bent over and kissed his forehead. Then she settled herself into the easy chair facing the entrance, gun at hand. _I hope this is over-kill. But why should he feel safe from Red John? It isn't beyond imagining that Jane is the hunted as much as the hunter. I'm a homicide detective and I still underestimate the power and reach of this killer. Is Jane being paranoid? Or is he the only one who realizes how malignant Red John really is?_

Lisbon made tea and even found some packets of instant coffee in Jane's place. She managed to stay awake, occasionally catnapping in snatches. She called CBI at eight, letting them know she and Jane would be in late. After ten hours of sleep, Jane stirred, stretched and finally woke, calm and rested.

"'Morning, Jane. You're looking better."

He started in surprise, but quickly recalled why she was in his room. "Hi. Good morning, Lisbon. I feel better. Thanks for helping me last night."

"One hell of a way to solve a case, Jane. At least it's over."

His expression darkened, remembering the previous day's events. "Yeah."

"Coming into CBI today?"

"Sure. Maybe there's news about Kristina from Missing Persons. Never know when we'll catch a case."

"Jane, I'll take a nap while you get ready. Then I'll need to stop by my place to shower and change. Okay?"

"Let's throw in breakfast before CBI, too."

They arrived at CBI at eleven. Jane was unusually quiet, but clearly over the worst of yesterday's events.


End file.
